Bejeweled Hearts
by AkizukiSakura
Summary: When Kaiba Seto leaves for work one night close to Christmas, he doesn’t expect to find a half-conscious boy on the way home. Nor does he expect his entire view of the world to be turned on end. Rivalshipping
1. Crimson Snow

**Title: **_Bejeweled Hearts  
_**Author: **_AkizukiSakura  
_**Series: **_Yuugi-ou  
_**Genre: **_Romance/Fantasy  
_**Rating: **_M/R  
_**Pairing(s): **_Seto/Yuugi (Rivalshipping)  
_**Spoilers/Warnings: **_Yami no Yami no Yuugi's real name, for one. This is heavily AU, and also a YAOI. Fair warning.  
_**Disclaimer: **_Yuugi-ou belongs to Takahashi Kazuki-san and all subsequent copyrights. I make no monetary profit from the writing of this story.  
_**Summary: **_When Kaiba Seto leaves for work one night close to Christmas, he doesn't expect to find a half-conscious boy on the way home. Nor does he expect his entire view of the world to be turned on end.  
_**Notes: **_While Bakura and Ryou are separate people here, as are Atem and Yuugi, I do not classify "Marik" and "Malik" as separate entities. Marik is a spawn of Malik's anger, not a separate soul like Atem and Bakura._

* * *

**Chapter 1: **_Crimson Snow_

To the casual observer, snow should have been beautiful, a frosting of memories and bliss in an otherwise despondent season of gray skies and cold weather. As much as he pretended otherwise, Kaiba Seto was no exception to that general rule. To his employees and business acquaintances he never showed a smile or any other favorable expression – such whimsical emotions were, to them, below him and would certainly serve to undermine his authority should it ever get out that Seto actually had _feelings_.

It was late into December by now, so this wasn't the first snowfall Domino City had seen this season, but with Christmas only three days away the chances were strong that the people of Domino would be seeing a white holiday. Seto actually liked snow, for it brought back more pleasant memories of his and Mokuba's childhood, those rare moments that they were able to forget their orphan status and, later, their adoptive father.

Even so, however, Seto was not in the best of moods this night and probably would not be until shortly after everyone welcomed in the new year later in January and the shopping fanatics got in their credit card bills. Owning a huge, multi-billion dollar gaming corporation with the technology to create holograms for games could certainly be cause for the massive headache building in Seto's temples. The CEO of Kaiba Corporation detested the shopping holidays, especially the ones where his company unveiled new items to enhance Duel Monsters. This year his company had produced the gaming board, an upgrade of the gaming discs from the previous year, which would allow players to duel each other in any location. It had taken months to finalize the design and cost Seto several late nights until it was allowed to be put on the shelves in time for Christmas.

He was unsurprised when, in spite of his best efforts, his new product sold out within hours and there was a backlog of orders that would take too long to finish if he left it in the hands of his employees, hence his recent long nights. Today it had been almost eight o'clock by the time he was satisfied with the way things were going. If everything continued properly the next shipment would arrive at various times tomorrow afternoon and the day after to the stores that carried his company's products and parents around the world would be able to breathe sighs of relief. While he didn't particularly care if children got what they wanted or not, he had an image as being reliable to uphold and it was something of a dream of his to see the game he was champion of rendered in full holographic images. He was already planning a tournament.

It had been late when he decided to leave but he'd declined his secretary's offer to call the car around to take him home. A walk in the cool night air would help clear his head and soothe the heat of the mild stress fever he had so brilliantly gained. When he was ready he'd call the car to come get him from wherever he happened to be.

It was as he was walking that Seto noticed a scent in the air he happened to particularly like – the heady smell of fresh coffee assailed his nose and, without breaking his stride in the slightest, he followed the aroma to a small cafe tucked neatly away between a toy store and an electronics store. It wasn't one that he was familiar with but, then again, Seto rarely walked anywhere if a car could get him there faster. Mokuba would be expecting him home soon, as he'd called his little brother to let him know he was leaving the office, but surely a cup couldn't hurt before he went home. A slender hand reached out, pushing open the door; the tinny sound of tiny bells tinkled merrily, heralding his entrance, and rang again as the door swung in reverse to close with a soft snap.

* * *

Running, always running… He felt as though he'd been running for hours, for days, maybe even for months, though he knew he had only left that place a little while ago. It was this knowledge that kept him from stopping even though he was garnering odd stares from the people he passed, knowing that he would be pursued if he failed to put enough distance between himself and that man.

He knew people had to wonder what a child was doing out at this time of the night without an escort, dressed in powder blue pajamas dusted with stars, a curious gold amulet bouncing upon his chest with every step. It was only a piece of a whole, he knew – the raised design was native to Egypt, the eye of Horus a religious symbol. He would have tucked it back under his pajama top but it would only bounce out again and he did not have time to continually stop.

Where could he go? He knew it had been foolish to run, but he could not stay there, not with a man that knew who and what he was, not with a man that was working so hard to bring about the end of everything. It had been centuries – millennia, even – and the legend still held. He'd done his best, but now there was nothing left for him to do but run and hide, to pray that he would be able to keep this fragment safe.

It was cold.

He hadn't really noticed it at first, because then it had been a hastily opened window, a two-story drop using a tree to prevent injury, and running. Then it had been a vague hope that he could escape this cursed destiny, a destiny he did not want. But it was so cold! His pajamas were not very warm in weather cold enough to both yield snow and allow it to stick. His feet were bare; his hands likewise, and only messy, multicolored hair kept his ears even vaguely warm.

It was becoming harder to keep going. His footprints were becoming bloody from the harsh gravel of the driveway of the house and now from the concrete. Only the numbness inflicted by the snow allowed him to keep running now.

A cry of pain broke his ragged panting as he tripped and went sprawling for the third time, his legs protesting the half hour of running and his lungs threatening to shut down on him. Ignoring the people who stared – humans, the lot of them, none offering even a hesitant inquiry – he pushed his form painfully up and stumbled on, trying to ignore the tears in his pants from his fall, the scrapes on his palms, the snow caking his long eyelashes.

He pushed himself further, fear driving him on. Fear of being caught, fear of that _room_ again, fear of being forced into the destiny he so avidly ran from. He didn't want to think of what that man would do if he caught up, but he knew what would happen – what had happened before.

Everything he had ever read – Greek, Roman, Indian, Indonesian, even Native American – told him that this was foolish. No matter the religion, no matter the gods, no matter the name of those who controlled fate, every story, legend, myth… All of them suggested that running was futile. Fate would catch up, always, but it would not stop him from trying to escape it.

Humans were self-centered, prideful, arrogant creatures with no respect, but he had met enough of the good ones to know that they didn't deserve to have their lives ended or enslaved, their beliefs forcibly suspended… He did not want to be a tool in that destruction and, gods and spirits be damned, he would do his best to avoid it.

He'd fallen again, breath puffing in front of lips taking on a blue tinge, and this time he knew he would not be getting back up. He'd pushed himself too long on too little and the form he was in was not accustomed to having those limits pushed. There was nothing more that he could do now except hope that his absence would be missed a little longer, long enough for him to…just…rest…

* * *

An hour was all that Seto had allowed himself to sit in the peaceful silence of the coffee shop before he knew he had to get home. Mokuba, the only other person Seto cared about, would worry about his big brother's prolonged absence. With a soft sigh, the CEO got to his feet, the white cloth of his coat swathing around his slender frame as he dropped his payment on the counter along with a precisely calculated tip – he wasn't a nice man, but he certainly wasn't going to stiff the waitress that had put up with him. The tinkle of the bell sounded once more, and the CEO turned the collar of his trademark white coat up against the biting wind as he stepped out into the frigid evening air once more.

At first, as he stepped onto the snowy sidewalk, boots crunching through the soft ice, Seto was unsure what the dark, meandering trail overlying the snow was. He walked on, gaze on the dark marks staining the purity of the snow. It was only when his mildly interested gaze landed upon the lump of something in the snow at the end of the tracks that his mind registered the dark substance to be blood and the form to be a body – a child's, if the size and proportions were anything to go on.

The heavy tang of metallic iron in the air, the scent half-remembered from when his stepfather killed himself and Seto had to identify the mangled body – broken after a drop from the top floor of one of Kaiba Corporation's many windows – was an unpleasant one. He slowed to a halt beside the ragged form of the child, confused. His eyes told him there was a child lying in the snow with no shoes and bloody feet – his mind was trying to figure out why a child would be out alone in this weather to begin with, much less in such a condition.

Seto glanced around, noting with mild surprise that the streets were surprisingly empty. It was amazing what a coffee shop sojourn could do to time, and what time and cold could do to a street full of people. Even so, that meant that this child was truly not with anyone. A parent would be out searching, police would have been informed. Another thought struck the CEO and the brunette knelt in the snow. Was this child even alive?

Intelligence and study had long since taught Seto to never move an injured body until damages could be ascertained. Luckily enough, this boy had fallen with his lips still visible and, though it was faint, his breath was clouding the chilled air in tiny puffs. So he was alive, but – if the blood was any indication – clearly unwell. Why else would a kid who looked about six be out in pajamas as nine-thirty on a cold winter night?

Casting a swift diagnostic glance over the child Seto decided that he wasn't injured in a way that would prevent him being moved. He might have hit his head, but the way he was laying in the snow suggested he had simply tripped and been unable to get back up. Reaching into the front pocket of his coat Seto pulled out a cell phone thin enough to be mistaken for a credit card and called his driver. Giving the woman a few short instructions he hung up, following that phone call with another to his private doctor.

Common sense dictated that he should take this boy to a hospital but Seto had a nagging suspicion that something was happening here. He overlaid that feeling with the much simpler knowledge that he had an infirmary at his mansion set to his doctor's exacting standards that would work just fine.

When the car pulled up and the driver opened the door for her employer, if she thought anything about the child in his arms wrapped in his trench coat she wisely kept her opinions to herself. She held the record for being the driver employed longest by the exacting Kaiba Seto and was not about to jeopardize good pay and benefits on foolish questions.

* * *

Kaiba Mokuba was used to his older brother's erratic schedule. That wasn't to say he _liked_ it – quite the contrary. Seto was almost nineteen, Mokuba nearing his fourteenth birthday, and yet Mokuba was the more responsible of the two. Oh, sure, his big brother was CEO and president of Kaiba Corporations, but he was always neglecting his health. To Mokuba, taking care of oneself made one responsible.

Because Seto's schedule was always so strange – and Mokuba knew that part of the reason was because his brother would not delegate tasks – he only saw his brother on those rare days that Seto chose to take a break. Even when his big brother worked from the mansion Mokuba didn't really get to talk to him. Mokuba knew he was busy – that didn't stop him from wishing that Seto would work a little less. Mokuba would give up all of the wealth Seto brought them just to have his brother back.

Tonight Mokuba had waited up for his brother, as Seto had given him a call to let him know he would be home a little early. Mokuba had used to short notice to bake a batch of double chocolate chip cookies. Seto would never admit it, and Mokuba was under pain of tickle torture if he ever told, but the older Kaiba happened to have a bit of a sweet tooth and Mokuba wasn't half bad at baking.

It was something of a surprise, then, when the housekeeper came to Mokuba in the kitchen with news that Sakamoto-sensei, the doctor Seto hired privately to see to his and Mokuba's health, was here. Mokuba stared at the woman for a moment before snapping back to himself and telling her to show the doctor to the azure sitting room. Mokuba prepared a tray of tea and some of the fresh baked cookies as he tried to figure out why Sakamoto-sensei was here.

Ten minutes of thought yielded no explanations other than his brother calling the man because Seto had taken ill on his way home. He brought the tray to the sitting room. He could have had the housekeeper do it but Mokuba knew the woman was looking forward to going home and he was never one to inconvenience the servants. Even Seto was kinder than people might have suspected.

"Sakamoto-sensei," Mokuba greeted, closing the door with his foot and crossing the room to set the tray down on a dark wooden coffee table. He poured tea for the doctor and took a cup himself. Etiquette demanded that he wait until the doctor had a sip of tea before he would question the man. "Why are you here? Is something wrong with my big brother?" he asked almost as soon as the cup left Sakamoto's lips. The doctor smiled wryly at the raven-haired teen.

"He called me fifteen minutes ago and asked me to meet him here," he informed Mokuba. "He wouldn't tell me what was wrong, only that he was fine and that I should ask you to bring blankets and a pair of your pajamas to the infirmary." Mokuba blinked at the doctor for several moments. Why would his brother need pajamas? And why Mokuba's? He got to his feet with a sigh.

"It's best not to question Seto," he remarked. "I'd show you to the infirmary, but I know you know where it is, and I have to go get the blankets and stuff." He picked up the tray, shaking his head at his brother's strange behavior, grinning thankfully up at Sakamoto when the doctor opened the door for him. They split up in the hall – the doctor to the infirmary with his bag and Mokuba to drop off the tray and fetch what was needed. Had it been an emergency he wouldn't have made up a tray, but Sakamoto was a friend of the family and deserved courtesy when he visited.

* * *

He didn't know what he was expecting when his big brother finally made it home but this certainly wasn't it. Kaiba Seto was carrying a child in his arms. A child, moreover, wrapped in the white coat that Seto was so particular about people handling. The doctor was equally surprised but he accepted the child from the CEO anyway, eyebrows lifting at how light the boy was.

"Care to explain?" Sakamoto asked dryly as Seto brushed snow off his shoulders; he had not waited for the driver to hold an umbrella over his head. He set his piercing blue gaze on the doctor. Most people ran when Seto looked at them like that, especially after speaking to him so dismissively, but Sakamoto had been taken care of the Kaibas for years, had practically raised Mokuba, and was currently in the process of unwrapping the coat from the boy. Seto sat down in a chair sitting beside the bed. It was built to exacting standards – the whole room was – and had been purchased from a company that supplied the beds to hospitals.

"I found him," Seto said simply, watching Mokuba shift curiously out of the corner of his eye. When Sakamoto glanced at Seto, clearly needing more information, the brunette scowled faintly. "Outside in the snow, when I left a shop about half an hour ago. I'm not sure how long he'd been outside, or how long he's been unconscious."

By now Sakamoto had managed to pull the coat away from the boy. Absently he handed it to Mokuba, who hung it by the door to take down later. It would need to be dry cleaned. The teenager turned back in time to catch Sakamoto's glare, his expression darkening the more he examined the tiny youth. Muttering under his breath as he scribbled on a clipboard the doctor opened his bag. Catching the expectant stare both brothers were giving him Sakamoto sighed.

"Given the conditions you found him under, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," he began, smoothing golden bangs from the youth's face to press the back of his hand to his patient's forehead, testing the temperature. "He has a fever, is suffering from mild hypothermia…" Unbuttoning the pajama top and pushing it from the child's pale chest Sakamoto scowled. "He's malnourished. He's probably been sick for a while." His gaze caught, briefly, on the jagged gold pendent hanging around the boy's neck before he returned to his diagnosis. "The scrapes on his hands and knees suggests he fell a few times tonight. Those aren't anything to worry about." Sakamoto pushed the cuffs of the starry pajama pants up, examining the torn skin of the child's feet.

"These will require time to heal, bandages, and a prescribed ointment," he finished. To be on the safe side he checked the boy's temperature with a forehead scanner and pulled out a stethoscope to measure his heart rate. Finally satisfied, he got to work cleaning the cuts and abrasions on the child's hands and knees before moving down to work on his feet.

"Food, rest, an antibiotic for the fever, and he should stay off his feet for a little while," Sakamoto said finally, tying off the bandages he had just finished wrapping before setting about changing the child into the pajamas Mokuba had brought. They were too big but the doctor simply turned back the sleeves and legs and covered the boy up, flicking a setting on the bed so that it would heat. He turned back to Mokuba and Seto, gauging their faces.

Mokuba, as expected, looked confused and horrified that a child was in such a condition. Sakamoto had expected the younger Kaiba's reaction to the news. He was surprised, however, by the contemplative expression on Seto's face. The only times he'd ever seen such a look from the CEO was when Mokuba was ill. Sakamoto lifted an eyebrow and turned away to wash his hands in a sink a few feet away.

"What will you do now, Seto?" he asked finally as he turned off the water and dried his hands on a towel. "He could stay the night at a hospital. I know a few good ones that are in most insurance plans. I'm sure his parents or guardians are worried." Even as he said it, though, the doctor had to wonder. Would they really be worried about this child? His feet suggested he'd been running, and his clothes said he'd run away from home. Why would a little boy run away from home in such a manner?

Sakamoto remembered the time he'd run away from home. Most children went through that phase at least once, and were generally home within the week. He also recalled having packed to leave – silly things like toys and things that were treasures to a child. This did not look like a typical case of a child denied a sweet or being sent to bed with no supper for a bad word. This looked like a child terrified of something.

"I'll keep him here for now," Seto's voice broke though Sakamoto's thoughts, startling the doctor into blinking owlishly at his employer.

"But… Are you sure? Have you thought this through, Seto? This child will need care. There's no telling what will happen when he wakes up. Surely a hospital would be a better choice…?" Even as Sakamoto spoke, though, he recognized the look in Seto's sapphire gaze when he directed it stubbornly at the doctor.

"That's why I have you," he said simply. Sakamoto rolled his eyes in exasperation. Seto _would_ say it like that. Mentally he translated Seto's statement: _I'm being stubborn._ There was something else in his employer's posture that suggested this was a bit more than stubbornness for once. Something about this boy had intrigued or confused Seto, and Seto was not comfortable with things he did not understand.

"And me!" That unexpected input came from Mokuba, who had been temporarily forgotten. Both Seto and Sakamoto looked at him. The teen flushed faintly under their scrutiny but did not back down. "Seto's busy sometimes, so I'll help. He's just a little kid," he added more softly, his heart going out to a child in such a condition. Seto smiled faintly at his little brother, his own heart swelling a little with pride and love for Mokuba's big heart. He nodded to Sakamoto.

"It will be fine," he said finally, getting to his feet. "This room isn't far from mine or Mokuba's. Put a monitor so I'll know when he wakes up. We'll see if we can find out who he is and where he belongs." Seto paused, glancing at the child in the bed and then away, feeling rather peculiar. "Besides… No loving parent should be missing their child on Christmas," he added rather gruffly, thinking of how he'd feel if Mokuba was missing.

Sakamoto gave Seto a long, measuring look before he finally sighed and began rummaging in his bag for a mini monitor. He handed Seto the reception piece and clipped the transmitter on the boy's finger. A green light lit up on the piece of equipment in Seto's hand.

"It'll measure chemical levels every quarter of an hour through a pinprick on his finger," the doctor explained. "When he wakes up he'll probably be confused and maybe scared, and there will be an adrenaline spike. The light will turn red on yours," he nodded to the white prism in Seto's hand, "and will emit a whistle." He paused and glanced down at the child thoughtfully for a moment.

"I'll give him a small dose of sleeping medication to get him through the night. When he wakes up, feed him anything but clear soup and he'll probably get sick," he informed Seto, a humorous tilt to his lips. The older Kaiba sniffed faintly, knowing Sakamoto was needling him a little. The first time Mokuba had been ill enough to be bedridden Seto had fed him food that was too rough for his queasy stomach and had ended up needing a shower and change of clothes that didn't smell like vomit.

Pulling a bottle and syringe from his bag, Sakamoto cast a gauging look over the boy before measuring out a very small amount of clear liquid and slipping the needle carefully into a pale arm. He explained, "Since I don't know his medical history, this is a very small dose of a common painkiller and mild narcotic. His size won't allow for anything stronger to be used."

Sakamoto packed up his bag and closed it with a sigh, pulling off the white coat he'd donned when entering the room and hanging it up in a small closet that doubled as his supply closet. As he was no longer needed, he headed toward the door but hesitated with his hand on the knob before looking back to the brothers. "Be warned that he probably won't trust either of you when he wakes up," Sakamoto informed them. Mokuba started, surprised.

"Why?" he asked before Seto could say anything, though Sakamoto could see the question in the older brother's eyes too. Sakamoto sighed faintly.

"I don't think he left in…normal conditions," he said simply. Mokuba still appeared confused but Seto inclined his head in understanding. He had suspected the same thing when he first saw the child, so it didn't come as much of a surprise. It _did_ make him feel better about bringing the boy here rather than to a hospital, though.

Sakamoto bowed to both brothers before departing, leaving them to glance at the injured child sleeping amidst a sea of white cloth.

* * *

_Rewrites are fun, especially when one actually has a _plot_ to adhere to the second time around. And it's an improvement in length, at least._

_I know I keep posting new stories but I can only write what's on my mind, and this is the one that is. I think there's a one-shot lingering in my mind, too, but I'm not sure. My plot bunnies all come from different parents._

_Word Count: 4,865_

_Kampai!  
__AkizukiSakura_


	2. Ebony Silk

**Title: **_Bejeweled Hearts  
_**Author: **_AkizukiSakura  
_**Series: **_Yuugi-ou  
_**Genre: **_Romance/Fantasy  
_**Rating: **_M/R  
_**Pairing(s): **_Seto/Yuugi (Rivalshipping)  
_**Spoilers/Warnings: **_Yami no Yami no Yuugi's real name, for one. This is heavily AU  
_**Disclaimer: **_Yuugi-ou belongs to Takahashi Kazuki-san and all subsequent copyrights. I make no monetary profit from the writing of this story.  
_**Summary: **_When Kaiba Seto leaves for work on night close to Christmas, he doesn't expect to find a half-conscious boy on the way home. Nor does he expect his entire view of the world to be turned on end.  
_**Notes: **_I stole the name of the city from Miyazaki's "Castle in the Sky". So sue me._

* * *

**Chapter 2:**_ Ebony Silk_

Kaiba Seto was _not_ a workaholic by any stretch of the imagination. He had a company to run, a house of servants to manage, and a little brother to take care of. Knowing this kept him from overworking himself to the point of exhaustion – Seto knew better than to malnourish his body and overly stress his mind. His company could not afford to have its CEO at anything less than one hundred percent and Mokuba could not be left alone to learn what Seto had been forced to learn. Seto would be damned if Mokuba lost his childhood due to an irresponsible guardian.

Even so it did not stop Seto from working at home occasionally, if the need arose, and with it so close to Christmas it happened to be one of those times when he needed to put a little extra effort into making sure that everything was running smoothly. As such he was seated in a comfortable leather chair behind a stolid oaken desk adorned with not only a desktop computer but also the laptop he was currently utilizing as well as a neatly-organized stack of papers.

If the expression on his face was any indication as he glared at both computer screens, however, something was not going as smoothly as he knew it could. He began typing quickly on the laptop, obviously making some adjustments. Two minutes later the phone on his desk began to ring. He answered it shortly and a terse, sharp conversation later hung it up. His attention returning to the laptop his expression relaxed slightly. It was sad that he had to bark at his employees to achieve favorable results but if it worked he would do it.

A knock on the door interrupted him from his work but when the door opened a moment later Seto knew instantly that is was Mokuba who had come to see him – a servant would have waited for him to answer. He was unsurprised when his younger brother gave him an exasperated look – Seto's mild shock came from the tray that Mokuba was bearing. His stomach suddenly reminded him that he hadn't eaten in some time.

"You're working late again, Seto," Mokuba admonished his older brother sternly as he set the tray down on the desk and propped his hands on his hips. Seto was unable to suppress a chuckle, his expression more relaxed around his little brother than anyone else Seto interacted with on a regular basis. Though five years his junior sometimes Mokuba sometimes acted like the older sibling. Seto glanced at the clock and blinked just once in surprise.

"I didn't realize it had gotten so late," Seto admitted, saving his documents and closing the programs on both of his computers before shutting them down and turning to the tray Mokuba had brought. Seto was astonished that it was almost seven o'clock – he'd been at this for five hours now – and he gratefully accepted the cup of tea Mokuba handed him. Seeing the sincerity in his older brother's eyes mollified Mokuba slightly and he smiled up at Seto.

"I guess it's all right, then. Still, you should set an alarm or something so you don't keep doing this, Seto. It's bad for you." Mokuba's attempt at a threatening scowl at his older brother was foiled when the CEO reached out and tousled his little brother's long black hair.

"As long as you're around I'm sure I'll be fine," Seto replied, amused by Mokuba's countenance. Mokuba watched quietly as his older brother began to eat, stealing a fried shrimp from his plate and chewing thoughtfully. Finally he broke the silence again, this time with a concerned question.

"He's been asleep all day."

Seto did not have to ask who his kind-hearted little brother was referring to. "Dr. Sakamoto did give him something to help him sleep," Seto reminded Mokuba. He knew from the teen's furrowed brow that he was still worried, though, so Seto relented a little. "I've had the housekeeper check up on him every half an hour. He hasn't moved at all but his vitals are fine."

"I don't like it, Seto," Mokuba grumbled, clearly unhappy. "Why was he even out so late all by himself anyway? He can't be more than five years old!" Whatever Seto might have been about to reply was cut off by a shrill whistle. Both Kaibas looked immediately toward the medical device lying on the desk in easy reach. The light had clicked on, shining red, and the tiny display screen showed that the patient's adrenaline levels had spiked dramatically. Wordlessly Seto got to his feet and moved swiftly out of his home office, Mokuba following closely behind.

* * *

_It started as a view of an island that was strangely regular in shape, as though one could draw a vertical line down the center of the land and have each side a reflection of the other. The landmass was surrounded, however, not by crystal-clear water but by fluffy white clouds that seemed almost manually arranged to flood the area around the island so that none could view even a modicum of space below. More clouds trailed through the sky above the island, effectively sandwiching it between two layers of condensed liquid._

_Sunshine coiled languidly down through the atmosphere, slipping easily between the clouds and over ivory-clad marble towers inlaid with mother-of-pearl strips and scalloped, gilded eaves. The golden beams meandered playfully through long stretches of greenery – vines climbing nimbly over buildings, trees in full bloom, carefully cultivated gardens and fields of wild flowers – and skipped playfully through the mists created by small waterfalls and elegant silver-and-marble fountains._

_In spite of the grandeur of the entire city – for a city in the clouds it was – nothing shone brighter than the palace situated in the very center of the floating island. It shone with a white brilliance under the sunlight that should have been blinding to anyone who laid eyes on it; instead it conveyed purity and radiance while still managing to seem almost normal. The palace was surrounded by sprawling gardens and merrily chuckling streams. There was no wall to separate it from the rest of the city – whoever ruled here clearly trusted their citizens._

_Inside, the palace was airy and open to the rest of the island by way of humongous arched windows with thin crystal panes, and immense marble columns traced in gold and silver and set with precious and semi-precious stones to form murals of pictures in a myriad of various colors. The floors were also of marble and it was almost impossible to tell where the floors ended and the walls began so seamless was the melding of stone. Elegant furniture decorated each room, furniture of thick, aromatic cedar and deep, majestic cherry wood._

_The throne room, with a gorgeous array of flora and fauna, was the obvious centerpiece of the palace. A pair of magnificently-carved thrones decorated richly with entwined ivory and ebony strips and shining with white and black opals sat halfway up the stairs to the top of the dais. Perched atop the raised stage was an immense statue of what was presumably the patron deity of the culture that inhabited this island. Carved of marble the skin was covered in bronze, the eyes set with rubies, the body draped in rich fabrics, and the hair made up of feathers of three different hues._

_Suddenly the doors to the throne room, giant constructs of oak set with jeweled murals in the same fashion of the pillars, were pushed open to admit hooded and cloaked figures. There were six of them, each of varying heights and physical structures, but all bore some form of golden item. They took positions in the open center of the throne room, standing as though each person was the point of a six-pointed star. In unison they began to chant, dark purple-black energy swirling around each golden object._

_In the midst of the spell another figure entered, this one carrying a bound and hooded figure in its arms. Calmly the figure stepped into the very center of the chanting sorcerers and put down its unconscious burden, situating it so that it rested upon its knees. The last cloaked figure pulled out a final golden object, this one shaped as an inverted pyramid, and dropped it around its victim's neck._

_Power exploded violently with the action, radiating in a sharp, devastating circle that instantly slew all seven priests. Their victim got to its feet slowly, painfully, the bindings gone. Limping, it exited the throne room._

_The figure returned – a figure that was now sans a cloak and revealed to be male– this time bearing a golden box and tailed by a veiled female cradling a sleeping child. A single blonde, spiky bang fell over the infant's forehead. The woman was clearly distraught as both she and the man ascended the dais, bypassing the throne in favor of kneeling at the feet of the god's depiction. The man draped a flat golden object hung on an equally golden chain around the baby's neck and the woman set the still-sleeping child at the feet of the god._

_Without a word both man and woman got to their feet and fled the palace, the man still carrying the golden box._

_Outside the palace the peaceful weather was a sharp contrast to the shadows that had overcast the city. The darkness spread and writhed around screaming citizens, instantly cutting out their lives. It sapped the life from even the animals and plants as the blackness drew steadily back toward the palace; in its wake the island began to crumble, pieces dropping from the sky to the Earth below. At last the shadows reached the palace and arched over the artfully-crafted structure, crashing down upon it a moment later as though emulating a giant tidal wave._

_Inside, a child cried._

* * *

He shot upright in bed, lips parted on a silent yell of fear and revulsion. If there had been anything in his stomach it would have ended up splattered on the sheets that had pooled in his lap with his sudden movement. The child sucked in huge gasps of much-needed air, eyes swiveling everywhere to encompass the room he was confined in.

Where was he? How did he get here?

Frightened in his confusion the boy threw himself from the bed and ended up landing harshly on the floor, a pained cry escaping his lips. The blankets had twisted around his legs and trapped them, causing his ungraceful tumble. Feverishly he yanked and pulled at the fabric until he was free, shoving his form to his feet and ending up back on the floor with another, more audible cry of pain as fiery needles shot through his feet.

He turned his gaze down to his feet and found, to his utter shock, that there were bandages around them. Fresh red liquid was seeping through them now – getting up had apparently torn open the barely-healing wounds – but the pain had grounded him once more. He forced himself to calm down and got gingerly to his hands and knees, noting with some surprise that he was no longer clad in his own pajamas. Now he wore a dark blue set that felt as though they were made of silk. They were trimmed in silver embroidery, the color echoed on the left side of the shirt in the shape of two letters, _"K.M."_ They were also too big, the top button too loose to stay fastened and his shoulder exposed by the slippery fabric.

He wanted to know where he was and why it wasn't _that room_, for this room was lit by moonlight and quite spacious rather than pitch black and the size of a tiny closet. It irked him to have to do it but, in light of the fact that walking seemed impossible at the moment, the boy crawled carefully across the floor. For some reason he felt strange, as though something about him had changed dramatically. He was unsure what until he crawled a few more feet, caught movement in his peripheral vision, and jumped in surprise. It took a moment for him to realize that he had only moved past a floor-length mirror.

About to shrug it off he took another look in the mirror, stared at his shadowed reflection, and hastily crawled over to it. Pressing a hand to the cool glass his mouth dropped open in shock. What in Laputa's name had happened to him?! He looked… He looked like he'd de-aged over a full decade! How old was he now? Five? Six? How had it…?

His gaze dropped to the flat, golden piece of a pendent hanging outside of the pajama top and his lips twisted grimly. Of course. Of_ course._ It was supposed to protect him. That man had taken it from him so long ago but now that he had it back – now that he was wearing it again – it had chosen the best course of action for his situation and acted accordingly. Putting it on had made him dizzy, even ill, so it was no small wonder that he hadn't noticed the change immediately. After all, he had been a little preoccupied trying to escape that house.

He didn't truly believe that anything would come of that man's attempts but that didn't mean he could allow even the possibility to come to fruition. The power was too great for a person to control – had it not already been proven? The sound of the door opening brought the child's head up sharply. He _was_ a child right now, too. Whatever the reason the amulet had decided to do this to him he would have to act the part. Whoever had found him could not know who and what he was.

"Ah! He's on the floor, Seto!" The light clicked on with the youthful voice's words, the radiance nearly blinding the boy on the floor from the sudden transition from dark to light. Briefly he was dragged back to those painful days locked in pure darkness before the soft patter of footsteps rapidly approaching broke him out of his daze. A boy who would have been about five years younger than himself – but was now at least ten years older – knelt in front of him, his posture screaming caution and worry. "What are you doing out of bed?" he asked gently.

The child said nothing for several long moments, his gaze resting upon the floor and his posture tense and wary. The silence was long enough for both Seto and Mokuba to worry that this boy's vocal cords were damaged – which was not such a farfetched conclusion to jump to given the state he'd been found in – before the child looked up. Mokuba's breath caught in his throat as he gazed into eyes of the purest violet he'd ever seen. A surreptitious glance over his shoulder once he'd gotten over his shock proved that even Seto had been unprepared for such a soulful stare.

"I fell… And then it hurt to get up… I was scared," the boy whispered in reply, his tiny form hunching over as though he expected a physical reprimand for daring to be out of bed. He would have to act the child but this fear was real. It came as a shock when footsteps, heavier this time, came up to him. Without warning he found himself in the arms of the other person who had entered the room.

Seto repressed the urge to roll his eyes when the child in his arms went rigid as a telephone pole, those almost too-expressive eyes going wide with both fear and surprise. In spite of his annoyance to have to put the boy back in bed, however, Seto couldn't help but wonder a little at how skittish this child was. What had happened to him? Even as he asked himself that question he knew that this boy did not come from a loving home. Unwillingly Seto was reminded of his own childhood – or lack thereof.

Seto placed the boy carefully back in bed, his stare cool and assessing as he looked the boy over. "Don't get up again," he ordered finally, seeing the signs of fresh blood on the bandages and grumbling something under his breath. Mokuba, having gotten to his feet and followed his brother over to the bed, glanced at Seto with a faint frown. Dr. Sakamoto had warned them that the boy would be mistrustful. Seto probably wasn't helping with his gruff attitude.

Mokuba cleared his throat and spoke up, his voice softer and more friendly that his older brother's had been. "My name's Mokuba and this is my big brother Seto. What's your name? How old are you?" he asked the child carefully. After all, they could hardly go around calling the kid 'hey, you!' or 'that-kid-big-brother-found-in-the-snow' – and as to the age Mokuba was just curious. There was another very pregnant silence before the boy answered, his gaze having automatically gravitated downward again.

"...I'm Yuugi." Another pause; this one gave Seto the impression that the boy – Yuugi – had to think about the second part of Mokuba's question. "I think I might be six," he answered finally. While Mokuba seemed outraged that anyone could leave a child that young on his own Seto's gaze was calculating as he only half listened to his brother question Yuugi and the other answered hesitantly. For a child of such a young age Yuugi used surprisingly mature words. His grammar was flawless and his speech highly formal. Even if he'd been raised in a strictly traditional family there was something strange about his speech patterns.

He couldn't be a diplomat's son or the son of a family with inherited wealth – his speech was too humble for that. Seto could think of no such family that would stress such polite words and formal grammar and then allow their son to be so deferential to others – a diplomat's son would have the air of a young noble and the offspring of a family with wealth dating back through the generations would have a similarly 'higher-than-thou' persona.

Who on Earth was this child? Why had he been out in the snow alone like that and in obvious need of medical assistance? _Perhaps an illegitimate child?_ Seto mused inwardly. Yuugi had not given them a last name to work with but he had not spoken as though he was purposefully trying to omit it. It almost seemed like that was the only part of his name that he actually knew. Seto hid a scowl with practiced ease. Somehow he would find out who this child really was.

Seto tuned back into the conversation in time to realize that Yuugi seemed a little less wary of looking at his hosts, though he had yet to actually ask any questions, and that he was nodding hesitantly – clearly Mokuba had just asked him a question. The raven-haired youth looked up at his older brother expectantly and Seto realized rather awkwardly that he had no idea what it was they were wanting. Seeming to sense this Mokuba rolled his eyes.

"Yuugi's hungry," he informed Seto dryly. "I'm going to go get some soup. The cook is asleep already but I know she left a pot simmering on the stove on the housekeeper's orders." Before the older Kaiba could vocalize anything, much less a protest, his younger brother had scampered off and left him with a wary child peering up at him through effeminately long eyelashes.

_Now what?_ Seto thought, staring back at the boy.

* * *

_I give up on attempting to make my chapters a uniform length. It never works anyway. Normally I wouldn't do a "review reply" segment but since there were only two of you I guess it can't hurt just this once. _

_**tinkletimekelly:**__ Yeah, I'm sure you've read it before. Actually, I think I remember your name from the very first time I posted this story. As for daring to hope for more… Is this an answer to your question, dear?_

_**StupefiedNarutard: **Wow, that's a lot of love. It makes me 'splee omg HAPPINESS!' to read all that love. This story __used to be called "How to Thaw a Heart". I decided to change the title because it didn't really suit the plot – this story has a fantasy plot. In fact it's half romance and half fantasy. I have a way to make them both work. Of course, Seto with a five-year-old just won't do at all. Ever read WISH?_

_I'm really happy to hear you say that about my writing style! I often find it hard to balance between keeping things short'n'sweet and elaborating. It tends to depend on the scenario, as I'm sure was obvious from the interlude in this chapter. The 'starting close to Christmas' was a total accident, by the way. I just suddenly got the urge to do this rewrite now that I have an actual plot and was like 'eh, what the hell' and did it._

_I'm so pleased that you're curious! It lets me know that I've done my job correctly as a writer. If you weren't then I'd feel bad. It's supposed to be an intriguing mystery – Yuugi's situation is supposed to be interesting. I'm sure this chapter is pretty obvious about some things but I think the ending – if I ever get there – might be a tad surprising. I think the person he was with in the beginning might be a little surprising too – it's not who it was in the original._

_It especially makes me happy to find other people who like Rivalshipping. This is my attempt to spread the Rivalshipping love beyond _Carry on Dancing _and _Phoenix Ashes_. Shameless plugs aside, thank you two for your reviews!_

_Word Count: 4,066_

_AkizukiSakura_


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